Ghosts That We Knew
by rae7788
Summary: *Story contains spoilers for 3x15 promo* In which Harvey bemoans Mike's lack of personal organization, Mike suspects that Harvey's brother doesn't really exist, and Donna may or may not have hired a hit on Mike.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so this is an AU based off the promo for 3x15 (which I watched about a million times while writing this; you can find it on the suits youtube channel if you haven't seen it) where Mike takes the job that Jonathan is offering. It doesn't have much of a plot, but it sort of explores how Mike and Harvey would fall out if Mike left and then eventually fall back together. I split it into 2 chapters because it felt too long as one big one-shot, but it is a completed work.

Warnings for angst and friendship, possible spoilers. I don't own anything (but I would recommend listening to the song! hint hint nudge nudge)

I wrote this because of all the feels that the back 6 have given me! This isn't really a fix-it fic, it's just me wanting Harvey to tell Mike not to leave the firm.

* * *

_And the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view_

_And we will live a long life._

_From "Ghosts That We Knew" by Mumford & Sons_

* * *

Mike takes the job.

Because really, how can he not? He knows that everyone wants him to. Jessica likes the idea of him leaving because her firm will no longer be jeopardized by his presence; Rachel likes it because she has never quite felt secure living the lie alongside Mike and wants him to go legit for the sake of their future together. Louis probably just likes it because, for as much as he has mellowed out over the course of Mike's time at Pearson Specter, he still is not Mike's biggest fan and never will be.

Even _Harvey _seems alright with the idea. Or rather…not alright, exactly, but understanding and accepting of Mike's reasoning behind the decision. When Mike works up the courage to tell him about the offer, Harvey says that he would take the job if he were in Mike's situation. There's an odd bite to his tone and he snaps at Mike when Mike says that he isn't sure if he wants to leave the legal profession behind, but he doesn't ask Mike to stay.

And in the end, that's why he takes up Jonathan's offer.

Donna seems convinced that Harvey is going to have some sort of emotional meltdown if Mike leaves, but Mike sticks to his guns.

"I'm going to say what he won't," Donna says when Mike tells her of his decision, her voice trembling slightly with emotion and desperation to make Mike understand. "He _needs_ you."

"I don't want to live like this anymore," he hears himself say. Selfish words. _Me, I, my life. _But he is resolute. Leaving Pearson Specter and becoming an investment banker is the only way that he'll be able to go legit in a way that is somewhat comparable to being a real lawyer. He will get the chance to work somewhere where his upward mobility is boundless and unrestrained, and he'll be able to stop looking over his shoulder for fear that today is the day his secret will be exposed.

And Jonathan is right—investment banking is fairly similar to being a lawyer. It requires the same sharp-witted, innovative thinking, playing the odds; the same head for numbers. He will be good at it; of that he has no doubt. In this job, he sees a clear future.

And he knows that Donna thinks he is horribly self-involved for claiming this as his reasoning for taking the job. "You might as well just leave right now," she says, and her tone is sharp and angry but her eyes are sad and disappointed in him and his apparent willingness to abandon them at the drop of a hat when a better offer comes knocking.

Still, he holds his head high as he walks out of Harvey's office, leaving her standing there with her fists clenched in betrayed disgust on Harvey's behalf. Because while he might not say it out loud, the number one reason he has for taking Jonathan's offer is that Harvey will be safer if he is gone. The pair of them have had some close calls recently—some _very _close calls, particularly with the recent Louis fiasco.

And he knows that Harvey has proved many times over that he is willing to risk it all for Mike. And incredibly, Harvey hadn't denied it when Mike called him his friend when it had seemed that Louis would expose him the other week, a thought that still warms him in spite of the constant anxiety that swirls around in his stomach nowadays as he contemplates his muddled future.

But Mike can't let Harvey risk his career like this anymore. He is far more experienced and independent than he was when he first stared at Pearson Specter; back when he was a proper puppy, still wet behind the ears. And Harvey had trained him up and given him independence and it's not_ fair_ for him to lean on Harvey's protection anymore. Harvey has given him _everything, _and the older lawyer deserves better than constantly having to fear for his own reputation and firm where his associate is concerned. Mike sees a final way out, so he will do them all a favor by taking it.

He goes to Harvey's office that night to do the thing properly; in person. Just as Grammy and his parents had always taught him. His mouth tastes bitter as he knocks on the cold glass of the door door, and his fingers shake slightly as he pulls the handle open. Harvey is not smiling when he looks up from his computer, but his face becomes even grimmer still when he sees that it is Mike at the door, the lines around his mouth tightening in the way it always does when something is happening that is out of his control.

"Mike," he says, his voice absolutely wooden as he stands at his desk. By some unspoken mutual agreement, they go and stand at the window where they have stood together many times in the past, looking down at the lights below them. Mike doesn't bother to unbutton his suit jacket—he knows this won't take long. They both know exactly why he is here.

"Harvey," he returns, inclining his head and trying to remember why he is doing this. Best to just jump right in before he loses his courage. "I'm going to take Jonathan's offer." _Please ask me to stay. _

Mike barely hears himself his own announcement over the blood rushing through his ears, and the only indication that Harvey has heard him is that his mouth tightens even further, pressing into a dangerously thin line.

"I want to thank you for all that you've given me in the past two years," he says, the words overly formal on his tongue. His voice is strangled, and his heart is a throbbing, leaden weight in his stomach. "I would never have any of this without you, and I will never forget what you've done for me—" he stops before he does something embarrassing, like cry. _I don't want to do this, Harvey. _

Harvey merely nods stonily in his direction, seeming unaffected by Mike's sentimentality. "I accept your resignation, effective immediately. I'll have Donna deposit your last paycheck by next week."

And that's it; that is all the goodbye that Harvey has to offer him after two years together as mentor and protégé; as boss and associate; as _friends. _

It is clear that Harvey has nothing else to say to him, and Mike stands for a moment longer as Harvey turns from the window, caught between wanting to leave and end this torture, and wanting to linger in hopes that Harvey would change his mind and ask Mike to stay.

"Harvey, I—"

"Goodbye, Mike," Harvey says, and there is an unmistakable finality in his voice as he opens the door expectantly, waiting for Mike to get out. A lump swells in Mike's throat and he curses his own stupidity—this is _Harvey: _why is he disappointed by Harvey's apathy? Why had he been expecting some sort of emotional speech? That isn't how he and Harvey operate, and he knows it. If this thing is over, it's _really _over. Harvey will cut him out completely, because that's what Harvey Specter does when people get to close and then hurt him. Mike has made his decision. And now he's going to have to deal with the consequences.

He does not look back as he slips past Harvey and into the hallway. He impulsively decides to walk back to his and Rachel's apartment, needing the quiet to process all that has happened. He will have to call Jonathan at some point too, let him know that he _will_ be coming to join his new corporation. The idea doesn't hold as much appeal as it should.

As he trails through the chilly night air, he can't shake the feeling that he has just thrown away the best thing in his life. He _loves—_well, _loved—_his job at Pearson Specter. The law has always been his passion, and he has come to regard many of the people there as his family.

_Still_, he reminds himself, _he is doing the right thing_. He doesn't have much family left, and he is protecting his family at the firm the best he knows how by leaving them.

The words sound slightly forced in his own head. And protection aspect aside, that doesn't mean that it doesn't suck royally.

* * *

A week goes by, and then two weeks. And before Mike knows it, he has gone a full month without seeing anyone from Pearson Specter. Well, anyone besides Rachel, that is. He still lives with her, obviously, and she seems much more at ease now that he is 'living clean', so to speak. He hadn't realized how heavily keeping his secret had weighed upon her until she was freed from its weight. She laughs more easily these days; talks about their future more often.

He's glad that she's so happy for him, but it really isn't what he's looking for at the moment. He's still grieving the loss of his life as a lawyer, as pathetic as it might sound, and he isn't quite ready to be happy and relieved about his new life.

Harvey had cut him off so quickly when Mike had given him his resignation notice that he hadn't gotten to say goodbye to Donna or Jessica or Louis. Part of it is his own cowardliness—it's not like he was fired or has any particular reason to be ashamed about showing his face there now—he left on his own terms to take a new job, and there is no shame in that. But still, he can't bring himself to return to Pearson Specter—it feels too raw, like an exposed nerve, and he prefers not to poke at it; to focus instead on finding happiness in his new life. But that is why Rachel cleaned out his cubicle and brought all the things from his desk home herself. He tells himself that it is just because he is too busy with his new job to go in and clean his old desk, but they both know that that is a lie. He is afraid that if he goes back there, he will change his mind about leaving.

As the weeks slide by and he slowly settles into the fast-paced, cutthroat world of investment banking, his time at Pearson Specter begins to blur and seem like it was lifetimes ago. How does Donna like her ridiculously complicated coffee order again—two shots of espresso, or three? Is it Wednesdays or Thursdays that Harvey always wears a pinstriped tie? What's the name of that organic brand of granola bars that Louis was obsessed with?

He is sure that if he sifts through his gifted memory, he will be able to find the answers easily enough. But it hurts to remember.

"Hey, Mike," a new voice says from the doorway of his office—oh yeah, he has an office now, and its size and luxury practically rival Harvey's—and Mike looks up to see Jonathan standing at the door with a friendly grin. "How are those estimates on the DOW going?"

"Uh…they're coming along," Mike says, fumbling with papers on his desk and attempting to make it look like he's been doing work instead of scrabbling to remember the tie-wearing schedule of his former boss.

"Sounds good," Jonathan says casually, and _that _is something that Mike is still not used to. He and Jonathan are more or less equals in this new corporation, and Mike is unused to not having to answer to someone; be it Harvey or Louis or Jessica. If he tells Jonathan that he doesn't have something done, Jonathan doesn't press him or threaten him. He just accepts that Mike will get it done when he can. "Hey, did you read that piece in the _Times_ today about the ebb and flow of the Micronesian free market? It was actually quite brilliant; the author brought a very fresh perspective to the matter…"

Jonathan keeps talking after that, but Mike tunes him out—he has learned in the past month that Jonathan is prone to long, rambling speeches about economics, and these tangents are generally unrelated to anything Mike actually needs to know for work. He envies the way the way Jonathan loves investment banking; the passion he has for the way the stock market rises and falls; its life cycle. He often waxes poetic on how their economic system is a living, breathing organism.

It reminds Mike of how he's always felt about the law.

"Here's a copy if you want to read it for yourself," Jonathan concludes, tossing a copy of the _Times _at Mike, who scrambles to catch it. "You mind bringing those estimates to my office when you're done with them?"

But Mike is frozen, because on the bottom left corner of the front page of the times there is a picture of Harvey. It is a jolt to his chest to unexpectedly see a photo of his former mentor. In the grainy black-and-white image, Harvey is emerging from court, and the triumphant, confident smirk on his face that means he's just won big is unmistakable in spite of the poor resolution. Sure enough, when Mike skims the article below, he learns that Harvey has just coaxed a jury into demanding a multi-million dollar settlement for Julius, Inc., one of their newest clients. Mike hadn't been involved in the case at all, and it stings slightly to sees this very visible proof that life at Pearson Specter has carried on just fine without him; that Harvey seems just as smug and confident and successful as ever even without Mike at his side.

"You okay, Mike?" Jonathan is saying, and Mike forces himself to swallow and put the newspaper down.

"Wha—oh, yeah, sorry; just got distracted thinking about something I may have missed in the estimates. I'll revise it and get them to you in the next hour or two," he promises, clearing his throat and flipping the _Times _over and stuffing it into his desk drawer so that he doesn't have to see the picture any longer. At least working with Harvey has taught him to think on his feet when he hasn't completed a task he should have.

Jonathan waves him off, unconcerned. "Sure, no rush. I'd rather you be thorough. Anyway, I'll be in my office tweaking the algorithm."

With that he is gone, and Mike is left thinking about how he is still unused to _that, _too. With Harvey, he had always had to work his ass off to earn every single shred of Harvey's respect. But Jonathan's respect is freely given. It's odd, but somehow a pat on the back from Harvey for finding a tricky precedent meant volumes more to him than Jonathan's easy trust now that he will complete his tasks in a timely manner.

This thought still weighs heavily on his mind when he shows up at Jonathan's office a half hour later with the estimates for the Newton Bank's fourth quarter cash flow, earlier than promised.

"Thanks, Mike," Jonathan says with a grateful smile, turning down the volume of the hypnotic electronica-jazz that he often listens to while working. "Always on time or early even! Keep working like this and you'll be _my _boss in a few years."

He knows that that is high praise indeed if the CEO of what is thus far proving to be a fast-rising corporation is basically promising that he will be CFO one day. But all he can think about as he leaves Jonathan's office for the evening is that _Harvey _would never have listened to electronica-jazz—in fact, Harvey always claimed that any electronic influences in classic jazz are an evil on the same level as those Crocs or that show about the Honey Boo-Boo Child.

The thought shouldn't feel so bittersweet in his lungs, but it lingers, cloying and painful, long after he is curls up next to Rachel in bed that night.

He is doing his best to move on, but some days are harder than others.

* * *

As always, Donna whirls into his life with purpose and fire, catching him off his guard and making him feels two steps behind the rest of the world.

"If you know what's best for you, you'll buy me lunch at that café across the street—their dessert is divine, and I didn't come all this way to observe what a pitiful state you're in without the promise of comfort food at the very least."

"Wha—Donna, what are you _doing _here?" Mike exclaims, the words falling from his mouth with incredulity. He sits up much straighter on the park bench where he had been lounging, nursing a coffee and munching on a bagel for lunch. Rachel would disapprove of his unsophisticated palate if she knew, but he hasn't had much of an appetite lately. It's been almost two months since he left Pearson Hardman; two months since he has seen Donna, and he is surprised by how fiercely he has _missed _her; missed her confidence and self-assuredness in every aspect of life.

Suddenly he is standing and they are embracing—he isn't sure who initiates it—but it feels a bit like coming home. Donna's gaze is brighter than normal when she pulls away, but she doesn't let any emotion seep into her regal tone.

"To the café—I'm sure you can more than handle paying for lunch, what with the salary Jonathan is undoubtedly dishing out."

Never one to risk the wrath of Donna—he might be a bit gloomy nowadays, but he isn't suicidal—he escorts her across the street and into the small, elegant café that Donna seems to be fixated on. His office is just down the street and he is actually due to be finishing up with his lunch hour, but he is sure Jonathan won't care or penalize him if he doesn't come back exactly on time. He is one of the high-ups at the corporation, after all, and he has pull and influence. It's an odd feeling, and he wonders if this is what Harvey feels like when he gets to decide to come into the office at 7:30 or 9:00 while Mike is—_was—_always there by 7:00 without question.

They are silent as they wait to be seated, but it's a comfortable silence. He and Donna may not have left on the greatest of terms, but Donna doesn't hold grudges in the same way that Harvey does.

When they do get a small table in front of the window, bathed in natural light, the waitress takes their drink orders—coffee for Mike, tea for Donna. And then without preamble, Donna speaks.

"When Harvey's parents divorced, he was sixteen," she says, her gaze far-away. Mike narrows his eyes—Donna has _never _revealed personal information about Harvey's past to him before. But she keeps going, obviously having a purpose behind this story.

"Marcus was only eight at the time, and Harvey's father got custody of the two of them. He hasn't seen his mother since. Much of the responsibility to raise Marcus fell on Harvey's shoulders, because their father was buried in his work and his music, trying to deal with the pain of his failed marriage."

Mike nods, still not sure where Donna is going with all of this. He feels a bit guilty that Donna is divulging all of this information to him—some of it he has guessed for himself, but Harvey is so private that he knows there are things he'll never know about the older man; things he would never dare to ask.

"The two of them were very close—Harvey took the responsibility very seriously. He pushed Marcus to get good grades and made sure that he got into a good college. But Marcus began resenting Harvey's high expectations when he went off to college. He never wanted to do anything but play music, and he felt like Harvey was making unrealistic demands of him by pushing him to go to school."

The waitress arrives with their drinks, but Mike hardly notices that she has given him Donna's tea until he takes a sip, he is so wrapped up in the story.

"Harvey was twenty-six the first Christmas I knew him—he had just started at the DA's office after law school, and Marcus had just started college that fall. I was his secretary even back then, and I was the one who took the call when Marcus phoned to say that he wasn't coming home for Christmas that year. Told me to tell Harvey that he had 'better things to do'. I still remember the look on Harvey's face—he was much younger; much more open with his emotions, and it was like he'd been sucker punched when I had to tell him that his brother didn't want to spend Christmas with him."

The waitress is back and she is asking them for their orders. Donna has her detailed request prepared, but Mike just vaguely points at something off the menu and hopes that he will like it—he's not even that hungry, anyway.

Donna seems to sense his impatience with the waitress, because she continues as soon as the woman turns away.

"The two of them have grown back together over the years, and I think they do spend most of the holidays together now. But they wasted so much time because Marcus was resentful and Harvey was too afraid to confront him. Too afraid to try and resolve their issues and give Marcus a reason to come back home. Because if he tried and he still failed, what would he have left then?"

She sits back, seeming finished with the story, and Mike is righteously indignant at that bullshit ending. "So what, you're trying to tell me that I'm damaging Harvey's delicate psyche by working for Jonathan? Come on, Donna, we both know that's not true—Harvey's not that fresh-faced 26-year-old anymore. You should have seen the look on his face when I told him I was taking the job. Completely unaffected."

Donna sighs, her face softening. "I'm not trying to tell you _anything_. Just that I stand by what I said before—Harvey needs you. Harvey misses you. He just can't bring himself to tell you."

"Well, if he really _needs _me so much, I'm sure he could have brought himself to tell me that. If it really mattered to him." These are the words that have been haunting him for the past two months—if Harvey cared, surely he would have _said _something by now. He knows where Mike lives; knows Mike's phone number.

"All I'm asking is that you just _think _about it, Mike. I know that you think you're protecting him by leaving the legal profession, but Harvey's a big boy. He takes responsibility for his own decisions, such as the decision to hire you in the first place."

The waitress comes with their food then, and Mike notices that Donna had ordered dessert along with her meal. "I'll take all this to go," she tells the waitress, piling the food into two to-go boxes. "I have to be getting back to work."

"Harvey doesn't know that you came to see me," Mike deduces from that. "He doesn't want you talking to me on his behalf. He's still mad at me."

Donna purses her lips, leaning down to hug Mike good-bye. "Your observation skills have improved a lot since you began at Pearson Hardman," she remarks, sounding fond. "I accept full credit for that."

"Donna," he says, a thought occurring to him. "Was that story about Marcus true, or did you just make it up as a metaphor?"

Donna just smiles mysteriously at him. "Maybe you'll have to ask Harvey the next time you speak to him. While hopefully will be _soon._" Mike rolls his eyes. "Thanks for the lunch!"

And then Donna glides away, and Mike is left with plate of pasta that he doesn't remember ordering, and the bill.

Part of him wishes he could get in the taxi next to her and go back to Pearson Specter like everything was normal and he was still an associate. The other part of him tries to forget the whole encounter. He has been doing better nowadays—Pearson Specter is a wound that is slowly scabbing and healing, but it still itches and burns sometimes when he presses on it.

He has gained some things—a new office, a job with unlimited upward mobility, safety and security that he won't be arrested for committing fraud….but he has lost a lot in the process, too.


	2. Chapter 2

_So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light_

_Because oh, they gave me such a fright_

_But I will hold as long as you like_

_Just promise me we'll be alright. _

* * *

For a lawyer, Mike was never great at keeping up with his personal paperwork.

It's something that Harvey remembers about the younger man, because Mike always carried his long-expired driver's license around in his wallet, too absent-minded and preoccupied to take the time to get a new one. It drove Harvey crazy.

So it only figures that Mike would have forgotten to change the emergency contact in his medical files.

Harvey is still surprised when he gets the phone call, however—he has heard nothing from Mike for the past three months since Mike left Pearson Specter without glancing back; nothing other than occasional blips in the newspaper about how successful Jonathan's corporation is thanks to the brilliant mind of Jonathan's number two, a whiz kid named Mike Ross. And an unsigned card that had mysteriously shown up on his desk on his birthday with a picture of Batman and Robin on the front.

Donna is not at her desk when he answers, for which he is grateful. She has _finally _stopped making daily comments about him missing Mike, and god only knew what kind of tailspin it would send her in if she found out that Harvey is apparently still Mike's emergency contact.

And the day had started out so well, too.

He is just finishing work for the day when the call comes through, straight to his desk phone in the event of Donna's absence at her own desk phone. It is an unfamiliar number, and he has an odd premonition before he picks up that this is going to be something that he does _not _want to deal with.

"Hello? Is this Harvey Specter?" An official-sounding voice says at the other end, and Harvey's first thought is that something horrible has happened to Marcus.

"Yes," Harvey says slowly, twisting his fingers in the phone cord.

"You are listed as Mike Ross' emergency contact. Is this correct?"

A long pause.

"Sir, are you still there?"

"Yes," Harvey says, finding his voice. He feels no better upon learning that someone is calling about Mike than when he thought it might have been Marcus in trouble. "Yes, I'm his emergency contact," he decides. He doesn't know _why; _he probably should just re-direct the caller to Rachel Zane or Mike's new boss, Jonathan. The two of them seem chummy enough based upon the newspaper articles. Not that Harvey _cares. _

"Well, I'm sorry to have to deliver this news, Mr. Specter, but Mr. Ross was in an accident just a half-hour ago. He was riding his bike and was struck by a vehicle, and the doctors are seeing to him right now."

"I'm on my way," Harvey says before he hangs up, wishing fervently that he hadn't picked up the phone. Now he feels responsible. He generally tries to avoid being at the office after six nowadays, and had he left at his usual time he wouldn't have intercepted the hospital's call. He finds that his office feels oddly empty at night now; although he prefers not to dwell on _why, _because it just makes him think of long nights sitting on the couch and eating takeout and working on tricky cases with a certain blond associate.

For all that he wants to claim that he has no particular feeling in regards to his former associate, he can't deny that he feels vaguely sick to his stomach as he gives Ray directions to the hospital. He should call Donna; hell, he should call _Rachel, _who deserves to know about Mike's condition more than he does_. _But he remains frozen in the back of Ray's car, wondering what he will do if Mike isn't alright. What if the last words Harvey ever says to Mike are the cold, harsh words he'd said the night Mike had resigned? What if Mike dies actually believing Harvey's I-don't-care-if-you-stop-working-with-me act?

"Send him my well-wishes, Harvey," Ray says as Harvey gets out of the car. Harvey nods numbly, tripping up the sidewalk and into the emergency room.

He is already feeling uneasy, and the starched, medicinal smell of hospital does nothing to improve his spirit. Being closer to some answers about what is happening _does _help, though, and he marches up to the nurses' desk with all the purpose of the best closer in New York.

The receptionist looks up as he approaches. She looks tired and careworn, as though she has seen too much but empathizes with people too much to quit her job.

"Can I help you?" She asks.

"I'm here for Mike Ross," he says, and recognition lights her eyes.

"Good; the doctor was just looking for you—Mr. Specter, correct? Let me page Dr. Benson; you can have a seat in the meantime."

Harvey considers himself to be strong in many ways, but he has his weaknesses. Unfortunately blond puppy-like associates happen to be one.

"Did the doctor tell you anything about his condition?" He asks, and he hates how tense and concerned his voice is. He hasn't seen the kid for three months. He shouldn't still be so invested in his life.

The woman's face softens. "No, but he didn't seem particularly worried or grim. All you can do now is wait and hope that he'll be okay."

Harvey nods calmly and takes a seat, even though he wants to leap over the desk and make an announcement on the PA demanding that Dr. Benson make an immediate appearance at the front desk of the emergency room.

A memory comes to him, unbidden, of the time when twelve-year-old Marcus had badly broken his arm at a soccer game and Harvey had sat alone in the emergency room for hours, waiting to hear how the surgery to put pins in had gone. Then he'd been the one to help Marcus home the next day; and he'd been the one to comfort Marcus when he cried after the doctor told him that he wouldn't be able to play his saxophone for two months while the bones knit back together.

"Mr. Specter?" A new voice interrupts his memories, and Harvey has to fight down the nerves that rise as he stands and crosses the room to speak to Dr. Benson. Mike will be fine—he has been riding that ridiculous bike around for years and years, and he knows to wear a helmet.

"My name is Dr. Benson. I'm sure you have a lot of questions for me, but first I just want to let you know that Michael is going to be just _fine. _He has a moderate concussion and is going to need overnight supervision. He also has some fairly extensive bruising and some scrapes, but nothing is broken. He's going to be very sore for a few days, and I'd recommend that someone stay with him for the time being. He's just back this way; I'll take you to him—"

Now that Harvey knows that Mike is okay, that panic subsides, only to be quickly replaced with worry over how _awkward _this is going to be. Part of him wants to turn around and call Rachel Zane to come and deal with her scrappy boyfriend, but he feels a strange need to see for his own eyes that Mike is alright. And if things are really weird, he can always just call Rachel.

With this knowledge in mind, he follows as Dr. Benson leads him down the harsh white hallway and into a door on the left.

Mike looks…not great. Perhaps it is the lighting of the hospital, but his features look waxy and there are already painful-looking patches of blue and purple rising on his face and neck. He has his eyes closed, and there is a nasty looking cut on his upper left cheek, dangerously close to his eye.

He looks disoriented as he opens his eyes and blinks several times in rapid succession when he lays eyes on Harvey.

"Harvey?" He exhales in disbelief, wheezing slightly. The doctor had said something about bruised ribs, and Harvey internally winces in sympathy. "You're…you're here? What are you—why are you here?"

He tries to sit up before letting out an anguished moan as he jostles his ribs. Harvey is just about to call Dr. Benson back into the room when Mike seems to get a hold of himself, his breathing still slightly uneven with pain.

"The next time you're in your fancy new office, you might want to look away from the DOW Jones long enough to find a moment to change your emergency contact." He says this without bite in his tone, but Mike flushes regardless, still looking incredulous that Harvey is actually there.

"Sorry," he mumbles, not meeting Harvey's gaze. "I just forgot. I'll change it at work tomorrow; I promise. You didn't have to come down here." The last sentence isn't an apology exactly; rather, Mike says it with a hint of wonder in his voice—_you don't have to be here, but you still came. Even though I left and you cut me out, you still came. _

Harvey clears his throat, determined to change the subject before this conversation drifts somewhere that he doesn't want to go at any point in time, much less a point in time when Mike's guard is lowered due to pain meds.

"I don't think you'll be able to go into work tomorrow. Bruised ribs and a concussion, kid," he says, regretting the use of 'kid' as soon as it leaves his mouth. It sounds too familiar; too affectionate. "You'll have to call Jonathan and let him know, in case he doesn't take kindly to the idea. And Rachel too, probably." The name 'Jonathan' sounds a little bitter coming from his mouth but he doesn't know why.

Mike shrugs. "Jonathan won't care if I take a sick day. And Rachel's out of town for the rest of the week. One of the partners asked her to go to Chicago to help with a deposition. She's pretty excited about it and I can't ask her to come home just to take care of me. If you can call me a taxi, I'll just head home for the night."

Harvey considers him for a moment, pale and weak-looking. "Ray can drive you, too," he decides.

Mike's eyes drift shut again and he smiles. "That's generous of you," he says, his tone wry. "You're a changed man. Your new associate must be a miracle-worker."

Harvey shrugs, even though Mike can't see it. "I don't have a new associate. And Ray is just going to ask about you anyway, so you might as well come along and fend off his concern for yourself."

Is it his imagination, or does Mike looks slightly relieved at the news that Harvey hasn't replaced him? He tries not to think about it as Mike struggles to sit up and swing his legs over the edge of the bed, everything about his movements stiff and jerky with pain.

"So what happened to you, anyway?" Harvey asks casually as a nurse passes Mike discharge papers and helps him into a wheelchair. "Jonathan not paying you enough to buy a car to get to work?"

Mike's eyes narrow as he tries to figure out what Harvey means by that comment. "Jonathan pays me plenty. I like biking to work. You know that and besides, it's really none of your business."

There is an uncomfortable silence between them for a moment, until Mike speaks again, determinedly looking at the wall of the elevator that they are riding down to the ground floor.

"Donna probably planned all of this, anyway. She's been conspiring to get me to talk to you again for months now. She probably tried to rearrange all of our meetings so that we'd run into one another by accident, and when that failed, she hired an assassin to lightly tap me with a car so that we'd be forced to bond in the hospital."

That startles a laugh out of Harvey. "I think your assassins went a little overboard."

Mike winces as the nurses pushes the wheelchair out of the elevator and it jolts slightly with a bump. "I agree," he says, his voice strained.

The nurse walks out to the car with them and maneuvers Mike into the backseat. Before heading back inside, she pulls a crumpled, dented helmet out of the bottom of the wheelchair and passes it to Harvey.

"Here's his helmet," she says ominously. "You're lucky he was wearing it, or his head would look like this right now."

Harvey blanches at the misshapen plastic and tries not to think about it as he ducks inside the car.

"Well, as far as friendly send-offs go, that nurse was a bit of a downer," Mike remarks, seeming unshaken by the ruined helmet. His hands shake slightly in the moonlight that filters through the car window in slivers, however, and Harvey tucks the helmet under the seat and out of sight.

* * *

The ensuing ride to Harvey's condo is…awkward. The two of them had fallen back into their usual banter easily enough back in the hospital, but now they are both faced with the reality that they parted on frigid terms and haven't spoken in three months. Fortunately, Mike can claim being exhausted and concussed as an excuse for avoiding conversation, and he dozes most of the ride.

When the car stops, Mike sits up with a jolt.

"This isn't my apartment," he says, squinting out the window and feeling distinctly disoriented.

"Good to know that you've retained your powers of genius in spite of the head trauma." Harvey slides out first, looking uncomfortable as he helps Mike hobble out of the car.

Mike glares at him. "Seriously, Harvey, why are we here?"

"Well, perhaps it's escaped your notice, but this complex is a place where people live, and I happen to be one of those people," Harvey explains as though speaking to a small child.

"You don't have to do this, Harvey," Mike says, leaning heavily against a no-parking sign and feeling genuinely concerned that he'll tip over if a light breeze blows through the area. "You can just call a cab to take me home and I'll be out of your hair."

Harvey sighs, motioning for Mike to follow him to the condo. "Oh, just come on. I'd rather you didn't work yourself up and faint, because I'm not carrying you to my apartment."

"Harvey—"

"Never let it be said that I am not an excellent emergency contact," Harvey says firmly, dragging Mike away from the sign so that he can either follow Harvey's grip or fall over onto the hard concrete.

By the time they make it up to Harvey's apartment, they are both sweating. Mike cannot remember the last time he felt this miserable, clutching his ribs and hunching over into himself.

"You can take the guest bed," Harvey says, tossing Mike a spare pare of sweats and an old t-shirt for pajamas. "Don't die tonight and this awkwardness can end tomorrow."

Mike glares at him, and a bit of genuine hurt clenches his chest. Or maybe it's the bruised ribs.

"I'll do my best," he says bitterly as he wrestles out of his work shirt. Harvey cringes as the mottled patches of bruising along Mike's torso are revealed. Mike should probably care, but he's angry. Angry at Harvey for being an ass, and angry at himself for expecting anything different. "I'm sure you want me out of your hair as soon as possible," Mike continues, grabbing the sweats and limping to the bathroom to wash up and change.

He is slightly surprised when he emerges from the bathroom and Harvey is still in the guest bedroom—he would have thought Harvey would have abandoned him for the night now that Mike has pajamas and a bed. But he waits while Mike limps slowly over to the bed, automatically reaching out to steady Mike when he stumbles slightly.

Harvey watches dispassionately as Mike collapses onto the blissfully soft mattress. Mike is half-asleep almost instantly, and he dimly hears Harvey let out an exasperated sigh and feels the blankets being tossed over his torso before the overhead lights flicker out and he is left in cool darkness. He wishes Harvey wasn't being so nice. It makes it harder to keep himself emotionally distant.

Mike hears Harvey murmur something about waking him up throughout the night because of his concussion, but he is gone in sleep already, trying not to think about why he feels so safe here in this apartment.

* * *

The next time Mike awakes, every single bone and muscle in his body is on fire, screaming their displeasure with him. He is vaguely aware of the fact that someone is whimpering and it takes him a long moment to realize that _he _is the one making those pained, wounded noises.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there," a familiar male voice says, and two hands are helping him sit up against the headboard of the unfamiliar bed.

There is a lamp on the bedside table that floods the room with dim light, but it feels incredibly bright to his aching, pounding skull.

"Guess the painkillers have worn off," the voice remarks, and Mike scrambles to remember where he is and why he feels like someone threw his body off the Empire State Building.

"Harvey?" He whispers tentatively, hating how hopeful he sounds.

"Yeah, kid, it's me."

Mike blinks heavy eyelids and slowly the room comes into focus around him. The digital clock on the desk says 3:07, and Harvey's face is worn and tired as he holds out two pills and a glass of water.

Mike obediently takes the pills, praying that they will start working immediately. It hurts to even _swallow _them—and how is that even possible? Harvey is peering into his pupils suddenly, checking that they are evenly dilated.

"You can go back to sleep now," he says, sounding just as exhausted as Mike feels. A surge of guilt floods him as he realizes that Harvey is going to have to be up in three hours to get ready for work. He should call Jonathan and tell him that he won't be in; hell, he needs to call _Rachel. _

"Harvey," he says. Harvey quirks an eyebrow at him expectantly, and all of a sudden Mike is tempted to blurt out how much he misses working at Pearson Specter. But he doesn't. "Harvey, why did you come to get me from the hospital? Why are you doing this for me?"

Harvey lets out a sigh that makes it clear that he is too tired for this conversation right now. He drags the desk chair over and sits down next to Mike's bed. "Because I'm your emergency contact and Rachel is out of town."

Mike frowns—he might be concussed, but he's still smart. "You didn't know Rachel was out of town at the time, though. You could have just had the hospital call her. But you came instead, and I want to know why."

Harvey sighs again and seems to think about how to answer for a minute. "When my brother Marcus was twelve, he broke his arm at a soccer game—"

Mike rolls his eyes, which just makes his head throb a little harder. "Not _this _again," he groans. "People keep trying to teach me object lessons with metaphors about your little brother. Part of me thinks that he doesn't really exist and you people just use Marcus as a code word to guilt me into things."

Harvey looks befuddled by these accusations and Mike remembers that he doesn't know about Donna coming to talk to him. He opens his mouth to speak, confusion quirking his eyebrows, but Mike cuts him off.

"Look, Harvey, can you just tell me what you're thinking? Just this once?" A hint of a plea seeps into his voice, and perhaps that is why Harvey takes pity on him.

Harvey swallows, and Mike thinks suddenly about how many people have hurt Harvey in the past. How Harvey's mother left Harvey's father when things got hard. How Marcus left when Harvey pushed him. How maybe these things still haunt Harvey; how these things make Harvey afraid to tell people that he doesn't want them to leave.

"I wish you hadn't taken the job with Jonathan," Harvey says through gritted teeth, looking like every word is costing him heavily to admit it. "I know I told you that I would take the job if I were you, but I didn't mean it."

"I did it because I wanted to protect you, Harvey," Mike says earnestly, and it suddenly feels very important that Harvey should understand exactly _why _Mike had left; that he hadn't left with cowardice like Harvey's mom or with anger like Harvey's brother. "It wasn't because I wasn't fulfilled by how things are at Pearson Specter—I loved working there with you; you know that. I don't give two shits about playing in the Major Leagues. And I might not love it, but I can deal with never getting recognition. I just saw a way out for all of us, and I took it."

"Well, I wish you hadn't," Harvey says, steadfastly avoiding Mike's eyes. "You should come back." There is a long pause, and Mike waits, hoping; _praying _that Harvey is about to say what he thinks Harvey might say.

He thinks that there is something very important about Harvey being the one to voice it, rather than Mike suggesting it himself.

"Come back and work at Pearson Specter. Please."

Mike doesn't need any time to consider the offer. "Okay," he agrees instantly, and Harvey looks up at him in surprise.

"Really? I thought you loved working with Jonathan."

Mike shrugs. "It's okay. He's a great guy. But he's completely obsessed with the stock market, Harvey. It's a little weird, actually. And he listens to electronica."

They both look at one another and in unison say "douchebag."

Mike laughs, feeling happier than he has in months. True, he will miss Jonathan; miss not having to look over his shoulder constantly in fear of his fraud being discovered. But if there is anything that he has learned from this experience, it's that being surrounded by the people he considers his family is more fulfilling than having his name in the paper or being promoted to CFO of a corporation.

"What about the fraud, though, Harvey? We can't pretend that a day isn't going to come when the glass ceiling collapses on me."

Harvey sobers. "We'll deal with it when it comes. I knew what I was getting myself into when I hired you, Mike. You don't have to protect me; I can make my own decisions."

Mike yawns and settles back against his pillows. "That's exactly what Donna said."

Harvey's eyebrows draw together. "When did you talk to Donna?"

"Er…wow, would you look at the time!" He knows it's a terrible deflection, but hey; he has a concussion, after all. "I should be getting back to sleep, probably."

Harvey stands and puts the chair back. "Yeah, I suppose you should. You've got a lot of healing to do if you're going to help me with the Landoff briefs next week."

Mike grins as he shimmies down so that he is lying down, curled on his side. "You know, Harvey, I heard that you hugged Louis when he told you about his engagement and asked you to be his best man. Me coming back to work probably merits a hug, too," he says cheerfully.

Harvey blanches as he flicks off the lamp. "Okay, first of all, saying that I hugged him is a gross exaggeration, and second of all, I'm not going to hug you for merely doing your job."

Mike should probably be offended, but he is too relieved that good old Harvey the formidable boss is back. Perhaps it is the late hour, or maybe he is already asleep, but he swears he feels Harvey's hand grab his shoulder and squeeze briefly before Harvey turns and leaves to go back to bed, and he thinks that the future might be uncertain ahead of him, but that he'll be okay. He has a lot to do: he has to call Jonathan and Rachel and explain this to them, and he's been thinking for months that he really should update his driver's license.

But at least he can leave his emergency contact as is.

* * *

It should feel like a massive downgrade when he moves back into his cramped little cubicle in the associate bullpen, but really it just feels like coming home after a long vacation; albeit a vacation where he was hit by a car whilst biking and not the relaxing kind of vacation.

It has been a week since his accident, and he is still sore. The associates mock him mercilessly, teasing him for his "on and off relationship" with Harvey. He is tired and he had somehow forgotten how much he hates proofreading briefs until he actually has to do it again—for a smart guy, Harvey's got awfully questionable spelling sometimes.

But still, it's all worth it when Harvey stops by his cubicle at the end of the day and tosses him an envelope that contains within it an unsigned "Welcome Back!" card featuring Batman and Robin. And then Harvey actually _slings an arm around his shoulders _for a minute_, _and he thinks that this is almost the equivalent of a hug.

"You tell Donna about this and I kill you," Harvey says menacingly as he releases Mike.

Mike just rolls his eyes and grins. He'll get a real hug one day. And until then...well, it's good to be back.

* * *

A/N: So...hopefully that was relatively enjoyable *smiles uncertainly* it made me feel better to write it at least :) I'm sure that this isn't how it will actually play out in canon, and I never actually fixed the whole issue of the fact that Mike's still in danger of being caught out for fraud, but I figured that if Mike _did _take the job, it would because of the fact that he'd be able to get some recognition and actually go somewhere, but also a big part of it would have to do with protecting the people at the firm who know his secret. So...let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading :)


End file.
